University of Virginia Library


159

TO G. A. S. Esq. On his Leaving Eton School.

Since now a nobler scene awakes thy care,
Since manhood dawning, to fair Granta's towers,
Where once in life's gay spring I loved to roam,
Invites thy willing steps; accept, dear youth,
This parting strain; accept the fervent prayer
Of him, who loves thee with a passion pure
As ever Friendship drop'd in human heart,
The prayer, that he who guides the hand of youth

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Thro all the puzzled and perplexed round
Of life's meandring path, upon thy head
May shower down every blessing, every joy,
Which health, which virtue, and which fame can give.
Yet think not, I will deign to flatter thee;
Shall he, the guardian of thy faith and truth,
The guide, the pilot of thy tender years,
Teach thy young heart to feel a spurious glow
At undeserved praise? Perish the slave
Whose venal breath in youth's unpractis'd ear
Pours poison'd flattery, and corrupts the soul
With vain conceit; whose base ungenerous art
Fawns on the vice, which some with honest hand
Have torn for ever from the bleeding breast.
Say, gentle youth, remember'st thou the day
When o'er thy tender shoulders first I hung

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The golden lyre, and taught thy trembling hand
To touch the accordant strings? From that blest hour
I've seen thee panting up the hill of fame;
Thy little heart beat high with honest praise,
Thy cheek was flush'd, and oft thy sparkling eye
Shot flames of young ambition. Never quench
That generous ardour in thy virtuous breast.
Sweet is the concord of harmonious sounds,
When the soft lute, or pealing organ strikes
The well-attempered ear; sweet is the breath
Of honest love, when nymph and gentle swain
Waft sighs alternate to each others heart:
But nor the concord of harmonious sounds
When the soft lute, or pealing organ strikes
The well-attemper'd ear; nor the sweet breath
Of honest love, when nymph and gentle swain

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Waft sighs alternate to each others heart,
So charm with ravishment the raptured sense,
As does the voice of well-deserved report
Strike with sweet melody the conscious soul.
On every object thro the giddy world
Which fashion to thy dazzled eye presents,
Fresh is the gloss of newness; look, dear youth,
Oh look, but not admire: O let not these
Rase from thy noble heart the fair records
Which youth and education planted there:
Let not affection's full impetuous tide,
Which riots in thy generous breast, be check'd
By selfish cares; nor let the idle jeers
Of laughing fools make thee forget thyself.
When didst thou hear a tender tale of woe,
And feel thy heart at rest? Have I not seen

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In thy swoln eye the tear of sympathy,
The milk of human kindness? When didst thou
With envy rankling, hear a rival prais'd?
When didst thou slight the wretched? when despise
The modest humble suit of poverty?
These virtues still be thine; nor ever learn
To look with cold eye on the charities
Of brother, or of parents; think on those
Whose anxious care thro childhood's slippery path
Sustain'd thy feeble steps; whose every wish
Is wafted still to thee; remember those,
Even in thy heart while memory holds her seat.
And oft as to thy mind thou shalt recall
The sweet companions of thy earliest years,
Mates of thy sport, and rivals in the strife
Of every generous art, remember me.
FINIS.